


It went bang

by Gumnut



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:50:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It went bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It went bang

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a long time ago, yet it continues to haunt me as I think it is one of my favourites. It is not yet complete, but I value it for what it is so far, and I hope you will too.
> 
> The first chapter was originally written in response to a single word challenge, 'bubble'.

It went bang  
A scribble for the word 'bubble'  
By Gumnut  
14 Jun 2006

"We are losing integrity."

"Damnit, Scotty, we need more power!"

"I'm givin' ye all we've got, Captain. Would ye like me to get out and push?"

Kirk swore, more for the sudden shift to starboard and the corresponding whack to his elbow than the sarcasm of his chief engineer. "Do your best, Mr Scott."

He ignored the muttered 'As if I'd give anything else' and closed the connection. Turning his attention to his science officer, he uttered the required mantra. "How much longer do we have?"

Face buried in the hood of his viewer, Spock answered in the same irritatingly calm tone he had answered before. "Fifteen point two three seconds, sir."

He held back the urge to swear again, they didn't have the time. The ship shuddered once more and Uhura, who had been assisting Spock stumbled enough for the Vulcan to reach out and grab her arm. "Ten seconds."

"We're going to make it." They had to. The wave of exploding sun behind them couldn't be the death of his ship.

Of all the stars the Enterprise had to be surveying, it had to be one that had been 'enhanced'. That had been Spock's term for what had been done to the thing. A simple survey of uncharted space. Nothing unusual. Facing the unknown was an everyday occurrence aboard this ship. The unknown just didn't usually blow up in their faces.

Well, not usually. There had been that time when...oh, and the incident with the Yrui...and the Frennie cluster...and last week...had that only been last week? Hmm. Okay, so it did blow up occasionally. Just not like this.

Spock had theorised, in the two point five seconds he'd had to survey the star before it novaed all over the place, that its core state had been altered. How that was possible he had no idea, but he had no doubt Spock would get several scientific papers out of it and be muttering about it for weeks...once they made it out alive.

Because whatever had been done, had not only altered the star's existence in real space, but also its state in subspace. The nova, once triggered, had expanded into subspace...which included warp space. So an explosion and disruption that could normally be outrun by a simple application of any degree of warp speed, now required every watt of power they had to keep ahead of it.

He prayed they were far out enough for the explosion to avoid other shipping, Federation or no.

"Five seconds. Our speed is insufficient, Captain."

"We're going to make it."

But the words were taken from him as a claw of energy wrapped around the ship's warp bubble and crumpled it.

The bridge lights failed. For a moment there was absolute silence, the only light, the fading impressions of console switches.

And then Kirk's world simply exploded.

-o-o-o-


	2. Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a moon. Why was there a moon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written in response to the one word challenge, 'moon'.

Moon  
Sequel to It went bang  
By Gumnut  
23 Jul 2006

Moon.

The single word applied itself to his mind.

It was a moon.

And it was moving. Drifting, circling in circles ever so lazily. Kirk smiled. It was pretty. It glittered gold. Was there a sun? Sun and moon. A pair. Somewhere he smiled.

Drifting lazily. Round and round.

He used to gaze at the moon on Earth when he was a kid. Nothing like an Iowa field on a clear night. Stars and moon. Partners, pairs, no sun. No, there was no sun where there was a moon.

No sun.

He frowned.

Lazy circles.

Spock liked moons. He had spent an entire afternoon attempting to explain the enjoyment...totally Vulcan enjoyment, mind you...he received from calculating moon probabilities at a distance. When Kirk asked why on Earth he would want to calculate something the sensors could easily tell him at a touch of a button, Spock had laser blasted him with that eyebrow of his and returned the question with a question of his own regarding mountain climbing and its purpose. Kirk had been forced to back down and fight back a grin. Vulcan, Smulcan. Big fake.

Fake. Fate.

Dancing in lazy circles.

If there was a moon, where was the planet? He frowned again.

Lazy circles.

"M-" ister Spock?

Spock?

Where was his voice?

Where was his Vulcan?

That thought set him giggling around his head. Hand me my Vulcan please. A silly grin.

Doctor, we're losing her!

Damnit! Get me a Vulcan now!

McCoy asking for a Vulcan? Vulcan, Vulcan, I need a Vulcan, stat!

More silent giggling.

Vulcan.

Vulcan had no moon.

Spock said so. Spock always knew. Ask Spock.

No moon.

But there was moon.

Spinning in lazy circles.

"Sp-" No voice. Wh-?

_Spock?_

No answer.

Try harder.

_Spock!_

Something. He felt something. _Spock?_

_J-_

_Spock, there's a moon._

_Jim!_

There's a moon. He giggled at the Spock he couldn't see, only sense. Hand me my Vulcan!

And suddenly there was sound. Sound! He flinched. Someone was moving nearby. Nearby.

The moon danced in circles.

Where was he?

_Jim?_ "Captain?"

What was wrong with Spock's voice? He frowned again. Spock sounded hurt!

And it hit him. Spock! The sun!

The ship!

The moon circling in lazy circles.

He lay staring at it.

Through a gaping hole where his bridge used to be.

-o-o-o-


	3. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death whispers threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters get longer, I promise.
> 
> Once again this was originally written for the one word challenge, 'whisper'.

Whispers  
A scribble for the word 'whisper'  
By Gumnut  
Aug 2006  
  
 _Spock?_  
  
A voice.  
  
 _Spock?_  
  
An urgency.  
  
He reached for it.  
  
 _J-_ Jim! Chaos. There must be order.  
  
He cringed from himself.  
  
 _Spock, there's a moon._  
  
A moon? He forced the matter and pain bounced around his head. He ignored it. Something was buzzing furiously. Jim!  
  
 _There's a moon._ Laughter that churned his stomach. _Hand me my Vulcan!_  
  
He forced his eyes open and flinched at the bright dance of gold that nearly blinded him. Gold on black.  
  
Black.  
  
The black of open space.  
  
He froze.  
  
Above him an expanse of shimmering emergency force field arched up to meet with a jagged edge of bridge bulkhead. It was buzzing furiously.  
  
Ever so carefully, he shifted his position, pulling his head away from the field. There was another flare of pain. It was also ignored.  
  
His foot hit something and there was a clatter, but the sound was the stimulus he needed to clear his mind. He sat up, slower than he would have preferred, but the result was satisfactory.  
  
Blood ran into his eyes.  
  
He found himself in a caricature of hell only his nightmares could create. The bridge had been destroyed. There was no other word for it. Its elegant ellipse arrangement had been torn literally in half, bulkheads folding in on themselves, crushing everything in their way. Electricity spat as torn lines attempted to feed the mechanics they were ripped from, but above all, the scene was dominated by the buzz of the emergency force field keeping them alive. It spanned the diameter of the remains, spitting and sparking, shining its gold light on the scene; black space lay beyond it, waiting for it to fail.  
  
Escaping air whispered its dire warning.  
  
Spock struggled to his feet. Time was limited. Uhura lay crumpled under the remains of the science station. The briefest of assessments found her alive, but unconscious. He turned to look for the captain, almost afraid of what he would find.  
  
Mr Scott's engineering console was jutting into the space where the command chair had been… _Jim?_ "Captain?" The spark was there. The captain was alive, but…  
  
A gurgle and a wave of fear. _Spock? I don't feel so good._  
  
The Vulcan clambered over the navigation console, now embedded in between his station and communications. "Jim?"  
  
Flickering yellow light sparkled on a tuft of sandy hair. "Captain?"  
  
"I-" Another gurgle. _Spock? The ship?!_  
  
He found Jim Kirk pinned under the remains of his command chair, jammed up against the steps between levels. Its console was pushing on the side of his throat, the man's rasping breath little more than a long gasp.  
  
There was blood.  
  
"Jim. Hold still." And Spock planted his feet and levered the chair, its mounting and the sizable chunk of bridge bulkhead pinning it, off his commanding officer. Kirk groaned at the release of pressure, but didn't move from where he lay.  
  
One leg was bent at a very unnatural angle.  
  
Green blood suddenly blurred and obscured the scene again. Spock brushed fingers across his eyes.  
  
"Sp-ock!" Kirk coughed and cringed, his voice still rasping. "The ship?"  
  
Almost as if to answer her captain's query, there was a creak of tortured metal and the force field spat. Spock threw himself over Kirk, expecting the struggling field to fail and their lives to be taken with it.  
  
It held. But the whispers of escaping air were no longer whispers.  
  
He looked up as Kirk continued to question him incoherently, the injured man attempting to sit up and failing miserably. Spock shushed him with a soft thought, reassuring him.  
  
 _Spock?_  
  
 _Jim._ The captain fell silent.  
  
A groan, and Ensign Chekov crawled out from under the remains of the navigation console. His eyes caught sight of his surroundings. "Bozhe-moi!"  
  
"Mr Chekov, time is short. Are you injured?"  
  
The answer was immediate, if wavering a little. "No, sir."  
  
"Mr Sulu?"  
  
Chekov blinked, and turned towards the helm. The mangled wreckage of the Lieutenant's station was cut in half by the life saving force field. There was no sign of Sulu.  
  
The ensign moved the shattered remains of the co-ordinates display in search of his crewmate, but Spock held no hope for the young lieutenant. Circumstances were far too obvious. He ignored the resultant emotional connotations. "Mr Chekov, please assist Ms Uhura."  
  
From the direction of the remains of his science station, a strangled alarm squawked and attempted to warn them of impending decompression, its Standard English mangled into gibberish. "Please hurry." He ignored the shock on Chekov's face and forced himself back to the task at hand.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
A quick but thorough survey of the bridge failed to produce any further survivors. Sulu remained missing, but the first officer found the remains of Lieutenant Petersen, not far from where the helmsman should have been.  
  
The captain called out his name.  
  
The moment Spock was within reach, Kirk grabbed at him with an uncoordinated hand. "Sp-ock, 'he ship?"  
  
"Ascertaining its condition, sir." The phrasing was automatic. But instead of providing details, he quickly assessed Kirk's injuries in regards to moving the man as soon as possible.  
  
The blood came from a head wound, which explained his disorientation, but apart from the broken leg and possible tracheal damage, there appeared to be no other obvious injuries.  
  
And wishing for a tricorder he neither had nor had time to locate was illogical.  
  
Metal creaked again and the alarm struggled to a new urgency.  
  
"Mr Chekov, we must evacuate immediately." Leaving the captain a moment, Spock moved to the turbo lift, its doors jammed shut by buckled bulkhead. Determination saw one of the doors shoved open, Spock's fingernails scratching across the plastisteel.  
  
Lights flickered.  
  
The emergency bulkhead, designed to protect the shaft in case of hull breach and atmospheric loss, had shifted from its recess, ready for deployment. It would snap shut the moment decompression was detected, cutting off their access to the ladders beyond.  
  
"Mr Spock?"  
  
The first officer turned to find Chekov supporting a very dazed Lieutenant Uhura. Spock frowned. "Lieutenant?"  
  
"I'm s-sorry, Mr Sp-ck." She brought a hand to her head, eyes closing in obvious pain.  
  
"I have her, sir." Chekov kept a protective arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Very well, evacuate the bridge, Mr Chekov."  
  
"Yes, sir." He helped Uhura into the turbo lift shaft.  
  
Metal groaned.  
  
Spock hurried back to the captain.  
  
 _Spock! The moon!_ And as Spock reached down to pick up his commander, he saw it - a moon doing lazy circles on the other side of the force field.  
  
But there was no time.  
  
The field spat angrily.  
  
"Captain, you must trust me." He sat the man up, draping Kirk's arms around his shoulders. "You must hang on."  
  
 _I trust you, Spock. You're my Vulcan._  
  
As he levered Kirk to a semi-standing position, the mental touch was brought into focus. Spock was forced to ignore the pain and disorientation broadcast by the injured man. "Hang on, captain."  
  
Something on the bridge shifted and groaned.  
  
A deadly breeze cooled the blood on Spock's brow.  
  
They had to move now.  
  
The captain clinging to his side, Spock half dragged him to their escape route. Kirk cried out as his leg dangled free.  
  
Unavoidable.  
  
Spock's hand curled around the edge of the door.  
  
He drew the injured man in close with one arm. _Hold tight, Jim._  
  
The bridge groaned. Sparks crackled. The force field snarled.  
  
Air rushed past his ears.  
  
The emergency bulkhead engaged beneath them.  
  
There was no more time.  
  
With an arm full of injured captain, Spock jumped.  
  
-o-o-o-


	4. And flickering lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also written for the one word challenge 'eat'. For Steff and Joy.

And flickering lights  
A scribble for the word 'eat'  
For Steff & Joy  
Part 4 of ‘It went Bang'  
By Gumnut  
2 - 11 Oct 2008  
  
Montgomery Scott awoke in freefall. A blink and his engineering console drifted lazily past, flickering between a red darkness and normal light, eerie in an unnatural silence. Something was burning.  
  
Fire. Power outage. Gravity failure. In order of importance. Possible causes and remedies lined up and started marching through his brain one by one before he was even fully conscious.  
  
A body floated past.  
  
The vision sloughed off any remaining disorientation. Burnt beyond recognition, the remains of engineering red were its only identifying trait left.  
  
The smell of smoke teased at his nostrils.  
  
“Watson!” Even as he called for his second-in-command, he was pivoting upon himself, altering his drift enough to reach out and grab the nearest bulkhead.  
  
That bulkhead was hot.  
  
“For the love of….WATSON!” A few practised moves and he was at the main engineering console. Scott had long ago supplemented the power source for the board. Its readouts were so integral to interpreting the status of the ship; it was one of his most important tools. So rigged, the console itself would have to be destroyed before it would lose power.  
  
That power was currently feeding so many red lights, he didn’t need the room lighting to read anything.  
  
“Wa-“  
  
“Sir! Sorry, sir. Enabling emergency procedures.” She was in his face as he turned, her shock of red hair stained with a darkness most likely blood, her pale skin bloodless despite the red light staining it ruby. She clung to the console, white knuckled.  
  
“Status?” He asked. It was procedure, but his eyes tracking the board gave him a damn tragic picture.  
  
She clambered over to the second half of the diagnostic panel. He heard her breath hitch. “Fire in the port pylon. No readings on the port nacelle. The starboard nacelle is venting plasma.”  
  
His eyes danced across readouts. The warp core had shutdown automatically. Fortunately the safeties had kicked in, saving their lives. The fact they were now dead in the water would have to be considered later.  
  
“Word from the bridge?” He asked the question, but knew the answer. The lack of a captain demanding answers answered that question. How long had he been unconscious?  
  
The lights told him the story and his fingers curled into a clench. His beautiful ship was in pieces.  
  
“No, sir.”  
  
The ship shuddered and rumbled, her superstructure echoing mortal injury. “Decompression!” And as if in answer to his exclamation the air in the room echoed a distant concussion.  
  
His fingers flew faster across the board, accessing emergency force field control. More red lights lit up, but he was relieved to find the system fully operational. Except for… “Bloody hell!”  
  
“Sir?” Watson’s voice was up an entire octave, but she didn’t stop what she was doing.  
  
He grit his teeth. “You have Engineering, Lieutenant. Full emergency procedures. Get a team down to that pylon. Send me the damage reports. I’ll be in auxillary control and co-ordinate from there.” His commitments clashed, but his duty was clear.  
  
“Should I call the bridge, sir?”  
  
“Negative.” His fingers came back slick as he wiped his forehead and his vision doubled a moment as he realised what was warm and sticky. He didn’t have time. “There is no bridge.”  
  
-o-o-o-  
  
Chekov was running on automatic. There was a reason for training and this was it. He didn’t want to think.  
  
Didn’t want to think about the decompressive shudder that had nearly thrown him and Uhura down the lift shaft. Didn’t want to think about how shaky the communications officer was and how much he knew she needed sickbay. Or the captain and Mr Spock above them. Didn’t want to think about the bridge.  
  
Didn’t want to think about Sulu.  
  
Now was the time for action. Reaction could occur later.  
  
Or grief would eat him alive.  
  
“Pavel?” Uhura’s voice lacked its usual deep timbre. “I need to…I need to stop.”  
  
“Okay, okay.” He gently levered her against the corridor wall. “Just for a moment.” She was wilted against him and the wall was not enough support. Lowering her to the floor, he took the briefest of moments to draw in a breath.  
  
He had thrown them through the doors on deck two, choosing to abandon the shaft that led directly to the bridge and aim for a between decks access tube for safety. It had been the correct choice. A moment after they had scrambled through, the ship had shuddered, the doors behind them had slammed shut, barely missing his boot, and his ears had popped as pressurisation fluctuated a moment.  
  
The sizzle of yet another emergency force field was forever going to haunt his dreams, its hiss holding the lift doors shut.  
  
The lights flickered.  
  
He had tried the first intercom they came across but was only greeted with a static that hissed almost as loudly as the force field behind them. Fortunately, the between decks access wasn’t far and they were almost there.  
  
His eyes passed over the door to the Science Officer’s Office, the letters of Mr Spock’s name glued to the bulkhead beyond. His throat clenched.  
  
Uhura slipped beside him, her head lolling onto his shoulder.  
  
“Lieutenant?” He touched her cheek.  
  
He shook her gently.  
  
“Lieutenant Uhura!”  
  
No response.  
  
The bulkhead reflected a Russian curse as he checked her vitals.  
  
Stumbling to his feet, he managed to throw her awkwardly across his shoulders, his boots planted on the deck. He didn’t hear himself groan.  
  
On automatic, he didn’t think, he just did what needed to be done.  
  
He didn’t hear the tortured scream from beyond those lift doors so far behind him.  
  
-o-o-o-


	5. Four whispers and a scream

Four whispers and a scream  
Part 5 of ‘It went bang’  
By Gumnut  
13 – 19 Oct 2008  
  
Whispers became screams that tore at his ears, his sensitive hearing raked by the decompressive gale. The world slammed together as both he and the emergency bulkhead collided with the shaft wall.  
  
He struggled to get a grip on the ladder. Fingernails cracked and split.  
  
Fingertips hooked and held.  
  
He bit his lip through as the screech of escaping atmosphere above became a blast of sudden pain, his ear membranes shaking under the pressure change.  
  
The lighting flickered and he could feel the tractor beam safeties designed to catch any person who fell down the turbo lift shaft flickering with them. Main power was obviously in jeopardy, the man-handling beams, designed to catch and attach accident victims to the ladder, was an unseen caress on his skin that faded in and out.  
  
 _Spock?_ The captain was reaching for the ladder.  
  
Spock edged him closer, a muscle cracking across the first officer’s back at the awkward angle. “Hold tightly, -“ ‘Captain’ was lost under a sudden groan from the bulkhead above. His attention immediately drawn upwards, Spock’s stomach dropped through his shoes.  
  
The emergency bulkhead was trembling.  
  
The air around them began to whisper again. His tongue tasted copper as he realised the ramifications. The mechanism must have been damaged or weakened and was unable to provide the necessary support.  
  
The emergency bulkhead below them suddenly slid into its ready deployment position.  
  
Time was a probability with uncertain results. A number of possible solutions to their dilemma presented themselves for assessment and all failed miserably except for one. Spock pressed his lips together.  
  
“Captain, let go.”  
  
 _Spock?_  
  
The whispers spoke his name as the bulkhead above creaked a warning.  
  
He could do this. He had to do this.  
  
“Captain, let go of the rung.”  
  
 _Are you kidding?_  
  
There was no time. _Jim, I’m sorry._ Reaching in with his mind, he tripped the neurons that controlled his captain’s fingers.  
  
Kirk let go.  
  
The bulkhead groaned as the lights finally flickered out and died completely, plunging them into an ominous darkness.  
  
 _Spock?!_  
  
He pulled Kirk in close and, for the second time in as many minutes, Spock jumped.  
  
-o-o-o-  
  
Lighting was failing all over the ship, but if one person knew his way in the dark, it was her chief engineer. Limping from only one barked shin and a black eye, Scott stumbled into Auxillary Control swearing his ass off.  
  
Gravity was off in engineering, but it was playing at twice normal strength in the corridor outside. He had collided with the field and landed on his face – which hadn’t helped the roaring forties in his forehead.  
  
“Gi’me status!” The crew on duty were accompanied by several extra crew persons, several sporting injuries. None were bridge crew. He ignored his disappointment.  
  
“Sir! Mr Scott.” Lieutenant Marks straightened enough to almost break his spine, but his relief was evident. “We are running blind, sir. All sensory input has failed. Working to correct it.”  
  
“We have minimal input in engineering.” He pushed past the man to access his board. “Must be an interruption in the main lines.” Circuit diagrams lined themselves up in his head.  
  
“That is what Ensign McDonald said, sir. She has gone to assess the situation.”  
  
Scott didn’t answer him, his eyes tracking the consoles. They had power, but no information to report. He climbed underneath and checked the safeties. All functioning. As suspected, likely an interruption in the main lines.  
  
“Mr Ma-“ Something sparked to his right and suddenly the viewscreen lit up as visual sensors came online.  
  
He blinked. “Holy mother of -…Collision alert!”  
  
-o-o-o-  
  
He missed the ladder.  
  
Spock collided with the shaft wall and his fingers met nothing other than smooth bulkhead, black in his blindness. And gravity took over.  
  
His stomach hit the roof of his mouth as their fall accelerated. His fingers groped in the dark, desperate to find the rungs he knew were there.  
  
Air once again whispered in his ears, but for an entirely different reason. Spock?  
  
 _I’m sor-_  
  
His fingers caught.  
  
And he screamed as their plummet was halted suddenly, its kinetic energy absorbed by his arm, the joints separating, his shoulder slipping sharply out of its socket.  
  
Spock forgot to breathe.  
  
 _Spock!_ The captain was sliding out of his grip. All he could do was edge the man closer to the invisible rungs. Agony danced pretty lights in the darkness. Automatically he started up the mantra of ‘There is no pain’ and his arm returned with an all too human repetition of ‘You wanna bet?’  
  
The darkness darkened.  
  
“Sp-ck?!”  
  
He blinked. “Captain?”  
  
“You ‘kay?” Kirk’s voice was a rasping whisper.  
  
A swallow. “I am well, Captain.” As his feet touched the rungs below, he realised he no longer held Kirk in his arms. “Where are you?”  
  
Something brushed his leg. “’Neath you, ‘think. And y’re lying.”  
  
True enough. ‘There is no pain’ was thoroughly denied again as he edged his damaged arm free of the ladder, his other three limbs taking his weight. It fell limp at his side, a throbbing mass of challenge to the Vulcan mind. He muttered in the dark. “A matter of perspective, Captain.”  
  
 _Bullshit._  
  
Succinct.  
  
There was a clunk and a crank began to turn over. A sliver of light cut into the dark beneath him. Enough light to see Jim Kirk struggling with a manual override and opening a set of lift doors. His broken leg dangled free and at the sight of it, Spock was once again made aware of the trickle of pain that wasn’t his in the back of his mind.  
  
Kirk looked up at him, his mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing came out. He frowned, dried blood cracking on his brow and for a moment he wavered on the ladder. Spock instinctively tried to reach for him, but found he couldn’t. “Captain?”  
  
The light flickered.  
  
Immediately the frown cleared and a familiar intensity returned to those dazed eyes. “We need to g’t out ‘f here."  
  
 _She’s dying._  
  
-o-o-o-


End file.
